Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤
also gonna tag @council-of-beetroot since she tagged me also lol
going 2 be sharing the ao3 summary + first few paragraphs of each since i've seen ppl doing a few different things with this meme lol
in really no particular order:
1) last light (gen fic w multiple ships, rated E)
just some desperate people trying to survive with (and sometimes in spite of) each other.
The lightbulb overhead flickered almost imperceptibly, emitting a faint hum just at the edge of Tolys’ hearing. Sighing softly to himself, he drummed his fingertips on the windowsill anxiously, ignoring the cup of now-cold tea beside him as he tried to focus on the fat snowflakes tumbling lazily from the sky to the streets below, where they melted almost instantly. The little village slumbered on, cradled to the east by a forest so dark and dense even Tolys was wary of it; its shadow loomed in the gloaming, and he wondered, not for the first time, what creatures might be prowling there. Darkness fell swiftly, the handful of streetlamps doing little against it. There was little threat of an air raid so far east, though there was still an uneasy feeling in Tolys’ stomach. Even so early in December, few people wanted to deal with the cold; those who braved it shuffled quickly toward wherever their business was and otherwise left the streets to the night. Tolys imagined most of the residents would be readying for dinner then, preparing to settle in for the evening…. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. A woman held her child’s hand as they crossed the street. On the corner, a couple of officers stood, lighting their cigarettes. You’d almost be forgiven for forgetting there was a war on, were it not for the tanks lurking in the shadows.
2) like they do in babylon (rusliet, rated E)
for the past several nights, russia has been calling lithuania to his study to talk and drink with him, and lithuania doesn't know why--until russia kisses him.
This is a bad idea, Tolys thought, as though that hadn’t been the appeal of it an hour ago. “Would you like some more wine?” Russia asked as he refilled his own glass. “I—please. Yes.” He bit his lip and held out his still half-full glass, willing his hand to be steady while Russia topped him off. He couldn’t bring himself to sip at it, though it was a vintage certainly deserving of that treatment; he wished only to calm his nerves, he was numb to any sensation but the buzz of anxiety running through his body, and if Russia thought anything of the gulp he managed to swallow, he gave no indication of it. Russia was sitting sideways on the sofa, one foot tucked under his leg, absentmindedly swirling his wineglass as he watched Tolys. His violet eyes were full of some emotion that Tolys couldn’t—or perhaps, simply didn’t want to—name. The deep yellow silk of the cushions glistened faintly, catching the light of the dying fire before them. Tolys focused on the dancing flames and took another drink of wine.
3) plein air (frapol, rated T)
[summary is just part of the same excerpt i'm using here]
Yawning, Feliks rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand and reaching for a grape with the other. Francis, his billowy white shirt hanging off his shoulder, gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “More wine?” he asked. Feliks shook his head; Francis shrugged before pouring himself another glass, and the two lapsed back into comfortable silence, lounging on the old blanket Francis had brought with. The Mediterranean stretched out before them, glittering like a sapphire, the horizon obscured by midday haze. Barely perceptible waves lapped at the brilliant white sand, their murmuring the only sound other than the occasional breeze, hardly strong enough to lift their hair. Pale cliffs sheltered the beach from the rest of the world; earlier, they’d provided shade, too, but the sun was almost directly overhead now, and the only shade offered came from a sun-faded parasol propped up behind them. Feliks didn’t mind; the warmth of the sun on his skin was more than welcome after so many months stuck in the cold, or indoors…. It had been Francis’s idea to head south for a bit, and it had been his suggestion that morning to spend the day at the beach. “You need to rest,” he’d said, “and the warm air will your lungs good.” Feliks hadn’t complained—he was sick of Paris, and the warm air did make it much easier to breathe…he’d missed the sea, too. It’s the wrong sea, though, he thought. It was such a brilliant blue he still wasn’t quite sure he wasn’t hallucinating it, and Francis had brought the sweetest wine he’d ever tasted, grapes and berries and a melon all so ripe they were practically bursting, it was just the two of them…and yet. Vivid memories of searching for shells and amber when he was younger, alongside…. No, it was pointless to dwell on that.
4) heartlines (lietpol, rated M)
feliks learns to be a little more comfortable with himself around tolys.
Feliks took a deep breath, smoothing his skirt—hoping it would wipe the sweat from his hands in the process—before timidly placing his hand on the doorknob. He had been so confident that Tolys wouldn’t judge him until that moment, just before showing him. He was suddenly glad he’d decided against wearing makeup—that would have been far too much, he was sure—or maybe the fake earrings would be where Tolys would draw the line—instinctively, his hands flew to his ears to pull them off— He took another deep breath. He’d seen men in perfectly masculine clothes wearing earrings, this was fine. Anyway, Tolys is the one with hair past his shoulders, he thought. Clenching his jaw, he grabbed the handle, still not turning it. The best thing to do was just get on with it—either Tolys wouldn’t care, and this worrying was for nothing; or he would, and it was best to just get that humiliation over with. He could feel his hands growing slick again; he grimaced. Couldn’t he at least act confident? He’d done all sorts of crazy-ridiculous-stupid things without a second thought, why should this make his lunch want to come back up? He rolled his shoulders to adjust his posture, then opened his bedroom door before he could talk himself out of it.
5) midnight rendezvous (ruspol, rated E)
Feliks wants to blow off some steam, and Ivan is willing to help. Part of my whump/smut combo "bingo," the prompt was "spanking."
Feliks made his way through the darkened halls of Russia’s estate, wrapping his blue satin house robe tightly around himself as though it would stave off the cold. Winter had well and truly come, the oppressive cold leaking into the house through cracks in the walls and gaps in the windows. Had there been lights in the hall, Feliks was sure he’d be able to see his own breath. At least it was a clear night, and still; the nights where the wind shrieked as it hurled itself against the walls were by far the worst, and Feliks was not entirely convinced the old manor house they had all been stuffed into would withstand another winter after this one. The overwhelming smell of cheap perfume clung to him as he walked. It was annoying, to know the house well enough to be able to so easily avoid making the floors creak in his wake. Well, if he was going to be stuck living with Russia, he might as well get something out of it.
